


Only to End a War

by snack_goblin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Cultural Differences, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gay Sex, Language Barrier, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mild Crossdressing Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piercings, Possessive Behavior, Recreational Drug Use, mild crossdressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snack_goblin/pseuds/snack_goblin
Summary: The king of a failing kingdom starts a war he can't win.





	1. Night in Blackridge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work ever. My English is not always perfect.

I quietly slipped out of my room into the hallway past my little brother. The hallway was empty save torches evenly spaced on the walls. I followed the lights until they led me to my sister's room. I quietly slip in trying not to wake the sleeping hounds that lay beside the bed. The candlelight coming from the small bedside table wobbles as the large wooden door opens and shuts behind me. My sister's extravagant bed is placed in the middle of the room right in front of a window. I gently step over the hounds that look at me with disinterest and sit next to my sister on the large bed. She acknowledges I'm there by leaning towards me. Her head falls to my shoulder and she reaches to turn a page in her book. 

“Dearest Caitlin, should you not be asleep?” I question, skimming over the page my sister is occupied with. She reaches for something besides her. Her hand returns with a little dish of pastries. She rests the platter between us and goes back to reading. 

“We, and when I say we I mean YOU, have a big day tomorrow. The Eastern Lord and his warriors will be here tomorrow and he will be choosing one of you miscreants as his consort!” I exclaim as I throw my hands up, mentioning the arrangement that would take place tomorrow. My father promised, the warlord could pick one of his many daughters as a premium “Are you even listening?” I ask as I prod her ribcage. She twists and looks at me. Her golden eyes are pinned on me and she moves to grab a pillow. Before she can I grab a small pillow of my own and shove it to her face, momentarily blinding her. We fight until we're both tired and each of us slumps back against the headrest. 

“I've been trying not to think of it.” She speaks just above a whisper. She leans on me again. 

“I'm the oldest, it's unlikely he’ll pick me.” She states. She and I both understand the unsaid "laws". If you are to choose a wife, she needs to be young and beautiful. She needs to be in her prime year for birthing an heir. One of my very young siblings will be chosen. My sibling's ages are anywhere from 7 to 23, with my adolescent sister being 14. I fear it will be,Eliza. She is the ideal age for producing an heir, still in her young years and she looks just like our mother. Straw colored hair and light blue eyes. 

“I suppose you're right, you wretched old woman," I jest. "All we can do now is be there for them." I finish sadly. The golden light coming from the candle illuminates the tear that slides down her cheek. 

I scoot off the bed once Caitlyn is snoring softly and kiss her forehead. I look out the window at the moon slowly getting lower and I hurry back to my room. I again put my trust into the now smoldering torches as they lead me back to room.


	2. Dressing is now a public show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kedric gets ready

The sickening squelch of a blade going through skin rings through my memory. It’s so hot I can see the heat of the fire that crawled up the walls, on my skin, the intense burning. I reach for an invisible hand, pleading with the clouds of billowing smoke. The boy reaches into the flaming crib to pull a crying babe from the fire. The flames engulf the top of his arm as he continues to reach into the crib. He screams. He reaches the babe and pulls it to safety as a large log falls from the ceiling.

“Mother!” A young voice cries, sounding distant. He carries the babe in his arms as he rushes to the woman on the ground. The young boy sinks down next to a golden blonde woman with a dagger through her chest, lifeless eyes drooping. A man stands before the three with a bottle in his bloodied hand. He spits on the young man and turns away.

My voice, I correct myself. This is my memory.

This is the night my father's drinking fueled rage killed my mother. 

I shot up, my heart racing.

I was supposed to die with her, that thought had crowded my mind since she died. Inhaling the seemingly dense air that hung around my room, I touch my forearm where the large burn remains and trace it up to my neck. Sighing, I look out the window only to spot a horde approaching with the rising sun, the fog whispering around them like an army of ghosts. I quickly step out of bed shedding my sleeping clothing. 

Within the minute it takes me to put on trousers, the triplets rush in, all with matching red dresses. They stop at the door and speak in unison.

“You and Ezra have an hour time to get ready.” Before I could ask any of them anything they rushed to the next door waking Caitlin.

I lace my trousers the rest of the way and walk to my little brother's bed. 

“Ezra, wake up” I tap my young brother's shoulder. He turns to the side and pulls the plush wool blankets above his head.

“Ezra,” I say again holding the A. “Little brother if you do not wake, I will have to get Blaze and Dutch.” I threaten with a smile. Ezra once again ignores me. I draw my cupped hand to my mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Before I finish I hear the scratching of claws against the cold stone floor. Two large fawn Wolfhounds get in bed with Ezra as he lets out a high-pitched screech. 

I pick him up from the mess of oversized dogs, and he clings to me. Just then one of the many staff of the building roamed in with a large basket. This particular worker was Agathe of Gilles, a boisterous woman. She had nursed Me, my older sister and all of my younger siblings. The first time I met her she had strong arms and was freshly discharged from the army. Mounds of muscle and fat she had gained had softened her frame vastly but her personality was still cold as the crystal pools. 

“ 'ats whatcha git li’tle Lord” Her thick accent was almost understandable if you knew her that is. Less than 5 years with her you would think she was speaking a different language. Her curly gray hair was pulled back by a small scarf and her apron had a large stain. 

“You lads betta’ git dressed,” She said, patting my head “you as well mi’ Lord.” 

She walked to Ezra's bed covered by the large dogs and shooed them away. She stripped the bedding and threw it into the basket she carried, she then repeated the process with my bed. 

I finished dressing with an undershirt and a dark blue tunic. I tightened the laces on my boots and then went to help Ezra. He tightened his laces on his shirt and that's all he could do. I helped him into the dull purple tunic as he shuffled himself into his riding pants. 

I fastened the thin leather belt around my tunic and fastened the sheath.

As I blow out the final candle that was lighting the room Ezra walks out and I follow. 

As we walk through the hall the staff all bow their heads to my brother and I. My sister Caitlin joins us and links arms with me. Her mess of raven hair is pushed back into a slick bun on the top her head, braids connecting on either side. She gives a small smile but saddens plagues her eyes.

We walk into the main corridor as a tough looking person I’ve never seen greets us. They have tan skin and deep green eyes. The top they have is the color of red sand and I recognize the insignia on the shoulder. A small red stripe filling a golden goblet.

The Red Ladies Coven.

An assassin. 

I pick up my brother as the stranger steps forward.

“Princess” The voice is deep but feminine. They extend their hand to my sister. You can hear a thick accent and broken Neviam. My sister cautiously offers her hand and the tall stranger kisses it. My usually Stoic sister is red as the setting sun as she retreats to behind me. I hand her Ezra as the stranger looks between us. The stranger nods toward me and then reaches for their hip. I reach for the sword safely buckled at my hip. They raise their other hand and unbuckle their top. 

The assassin takes off their top coat and folds it. Her body curves not that you would notice under the thick layers. Her being under top sticks out against her tan skin. My sister is staring. The assassin winks at her and my sister looks away furiously blushing. She then places a hand over Ezra's young eyes and walks back down the hallway. 

“Prince Kedric.” I glare as she says my name. Her mouth hangs open slightly as if she wants to say something more. “We have words.” Her accent and her lack of Nevaim words only told me one thing.

There’s a horde assassin in the castle.


End file.
